


Garden of Hope

by camakitsune



Category: Super Smash Brothers, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time, The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker
Genre: First Kiss, Frottage, Intentionally Vague Narration, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mostly Fluff, Selfcest, linkcest - Freeform, probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 02:29:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17654327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camakitsune/pseuds/camakitsune
Summary: They don’t know exactly what they’re supposed to do. But they’re adventurers, and they know sometimes you just have to act anyway.





	Garden of Hope

**Author's Note:**

> yo we got  
> -boys  
> -kissing  
> -other stuff
> 
> both Links are simply referred to as "Link." Have fun interpreting which is which :3

Link can't help but get attached to the new hero. He's fun, and cute, and he's okay with quiet. His laughter is contagious in a way Link rarely encounters. He likes impromptu games and friendly competition.

He's different – he's expressive and spontaneous and he shows his doubts. Link is different too when he's around. He feels more like himself at these times than any other.

Link grew up with his grandmother and his sister and everyone else on Outset Island. He was a normal boy before destiny came knocking.

But Link was something of an outsider among his community. Not everyone actively looked down on him, but there was always a gap somewhere in him from never experiencing the meaningless antics and playful who-likes-who that most Hylian children had.

There's no reason then, that he should know what to do when Link asks him to close his eyes and kisses him. But he does it, a tickly and just-a-little-wet gesture that jolts Link's eyes open. He startles enough to part their mouths, and the unreal proximity he finds sends him into retreat.

Link lets him go and stares across the disproportionate distance the couple of feet between them has become.

He presses his lips together, plays with the memory of lips on his. Something slithers in Link's belly when he sees it, and it flicks its tongue low.

The moment passes, and they manage eye contact.

"You kissed me."

"Yeah." He licks his lips. "Is it okay?"

Link mirrors the action and nods. "Can we do it again?"

The answer comes in a single smooth motion forward to kiss his lips again. It's still tickly and still just a little wet. Anticipation only makes it more tickly than it should be, and it scrunches Link's face up on contact. An unmistakable smile is packed into that scrunch, and it only invites more kisses – on his nose, his cheeks, his forehead.

A giggle finally escapes. His smile is fixed too hard for him to try to return any kisses.

It encourages Link to keep kissing and keep digging for more reaction to pull out of the boy known for being so reserved.

Voices sound off from the other side of the garden. Link breaks away from the onslaught of kisses to snap his head around. He's followed this time, but doesn't want to continue with the potential for an uninvited guest. He lifts a hand to hold back his assailant while he scans their surroundings.

What one might mistake for a group of spectators splitting from a fight's audience turns out to only be a handful of pikmin hiding from the path of that giant onion-crab. It's far from approaching the two boys, but it’s side-skittering close enough to disturb the nearby residents.

Link watches it go. Once he's absolutely sure no one who can recognize and judge them is around, he ends his search of the garden.

But when he releases Link's shoulder to permit free movement, he's met with one of those looks only _he_ can give, one that he's usually pointing at some grownup who underestimates him or a battle opponent who postures too much.

"You don't have to if it's too embarrassing."

Did he say that? "It's not embarrassing."

"Then what are you so scared about?"

The thing snaking around in his belly climbs up to squeeze his heart tight.

"I'm not scared." It's not the first time someone has suggested he should be afraid, or that he _was_ afraid. So it shouldn't piss him off this much, but it's different when it's some random city guard who's never seen anything worse than a purse snatcher. Link isn't some random city guard who doesn't know what he's talking about. He doesn't get to call him scared.

Indignation hardens his features and heats his skin. It's a flash of fierceness swift and quiet as a secret threat. Link can't stay sincerely mad at him much longer after seeing it. It feels like it doesn't belong on a boy like him. It's probably the same thing most people would say about him, if anyone ever asked.

"Forget it."

"Fine."

They're still close on the overturned teacup, close enough that Link has to look down at the other's face. "I'm not embarrassed about it either," he has to add.

"I know." He seems tired of it.

Link kisses him, just to make it absolutely clear that he means what he's saying. The crooked smile he receives in return marks a weak point in the wall he's trying to break. He kisses again, lingering on Link's lips, too unsure to do anything else.

"Okay," Link manages before his speaking distance is taken from him again. He reaches for an arm to nudge away. "I believe you," he offers for a cease-fire.

But now Link knows he's turned the tables, and he won't back off so easily anymore. He leans in so far that he's threatening to push them both off the teacup. Link has to put all his meager weight into pushing them back, back, past center to return the unsteady, tip-overy feel of being pushed over.

Rather than teetering them back to center, Link pulls, and with the over-shot shove, they come tumbling off the teacup.

The slithering in Link’s belly is a thing that likes to strike and hold. The smirks they share amid their wrestling only invites it to ambush.

Link is tiny, but deceptively strong, and it takes strategy to overpower him. He’s quick to lift himself up over his opponent and straddle his thighs. They’ve managed to clasp hands in the tussle, and he can just barely keep himself on top as long as he keeps his legs gripping.

He’s only holding with his hands and his legs, yet underneath him, Link feels like he’s being squeezed all over, like his nerves are being pulled taut under his skin. A hard push lifts his back off the ground, but it’s not enough to overcome the boy on top of him. He’s pressed back to the grass again, and a gasp too noisy for the impact escapes him.

Link softens his hold in fear that he may have shoved too hard. He watches his captive catch his breath for a moment. It leaves him a chance to slip his hands free of Link’s smaller ones and reach for his sides. He’s much easier to throw this way, and he crashes on his side to the ground.

He recognizes the bid for a pin. Link tries to keep him at arm’s length to keep anything substantial out of his reach. He neglects to account for his legs though, and his attempt to climb on top is slowed by one of them hooking behind his.

The prickly pulled-taut feeling is back, or it never left and has made its way to the front of his attention once more. A venom has invaded his muscles, and it leaves them drawn like a dry bow with no target. He tenses everything he knows how to, tries to squeeze out whatever has spread through his body fom the slithering in his belly.

It only adds force to the all-over pressure. When he opens his eyes, Link is flushed red and more holding him than wrestling anymore. There’s something foreign in his stare, like something else is looking through him.

It must be in his belly too. Scraping in the cavity of his chest, licking down lower, biting its strange toxin into his muscles. Link can tell when he sees it. It leaves him with the same need to get closer, even though they’re already all tangled up on the ground in front of each other.

They kiss again without being entirely sure who started it. They both can feel how hard the other is _down there_ , poking into each other’s hip. Link jerks forward, tenses up with the unfamiliar combination of relief and need the motion gives him.

Link mimics the action, follows the lead into submission to the demands of his body. He shuts his eyes, bites his lips, grips at the arms in his hands. It gives him all the false relief of scratching a bug bite, but he’s taken the bait to stick himself onto the “just keep scratching” hook.

His acceptance taunts the poisonous creature to strike. Link lifts himself up, hips positioned for clothed contact where they both need it most. A soft voice floats up from under him and endows the slithering thing with the strength to pull him like a puppet. It presses him down, for seconds at a time, until he figures a rhythm that finally offers him something more akin to relief, just as long as he keeps doing it.

Link tenses up on the ground and squeezes his eyes shut and submits to the need with far less of a fight. He keeps pulling, still trying to get closer. Maybe if they pass through each other, if they can interlock their bones and layer their organs together, maybe then they’ll finally be close enough. He brings them flush against each other on the ground, and everything but his clinging arms goes limp and accepting under the friction Link is giving him.

A high sound escapes him. His own hips jerk up. It throws Link’s rhythm, and it sends a shock of frustration through them both when they collide out of pace with each other. But he’s rocking too out of his own control to even think about coordinating motion. Link slackens and lets him.

He finally settles enough to slow his pace, but Link hasn’t had enough. As he calms, Link picks up his pace again, still prickling with nothing but the thought of _more_ in his brain. A new sound comes from under him, higher than the last, accompanied by fingers digging deep in his back. Being grabbed so tightly hurts, but if he can ignore it for just a little longer, keep himself on auto-pilot long enough to make the needing stop…

“Link.”

He lifts his face out of Link’s shoulder far enough to look at the boy under him. His lips are curled into his mouth and his brow is knit but his eyes are looking off somewhere else entirely, or nowhere, and it’s all the warning he gets before every bit of relief he wanted comes flooding through him at once.

A whine escapes him before he thinks to shut his mouth. He keeps rubbing until the need finally dies, until his body feels his again and he can identify his own heaving breaths and exhausted heart.

Link has gone fully limp on the ground now with the cessation of movement.

He jolts, then backs off entirely to sit on his knees apart from Link. Some muscles have yet to remember how to do anything but rub them together, and one arm almost collapses under him as he retreats. Link’s head pops up to watch him go. He rolls on his side to reach for his wrist, just in case running away was going to be an option.

Link is less concerned about running away, however, and keeps staring instead. “I did something bad,” he says. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No, it’s fine,” Link quickly reassures him.

He looks him up and down as he also rises to his knees. “Did I hurt you?”

He shakes his head. “I’m okay, really.”

“I went too far.”

“Link.” He kisses him before he can protest and stays close when they break. Link still wears a face of shame and concern, but maybe it’s weakened a little to let reason in. “I liked it a lot.”

He searches for any uncertainty for another moment, then looks down with a sigh once his fears are placated. “You’re not just saying that.” He looks up again to be absolutely sure.

Link shakes his head again.

He’s pretty sure he wouldn’t _normally_ ask his next question in this kind of situation, but who's to say that he has any experience with this situation anyway? Link said he was okay, and he liked it, and he meant it.

And besides, he’s different around Link.

“So um.” He looks down at the hand around his wrist, holding him in place as if to prevent escape. Link is both patient and attentive for his question. “So, can we do it again?”

**Author's Note:**

> comments are cool. either way, thanks for reading!


End file.
